


But We Were Friends

by skyforforever



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst, Depression, Grieving, No Romance, Suicide, the major character death is Connor who is dead in canon anyway so idk if it counts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 23:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15959522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyforforever/pseuds/skyforforever
Summary: It wasn't fair.  Evan finally had a friend, and now, he was dead.  And things had been going so well for Connor: he was starting to get along with his sister, he was skipping less school.  But that didn't change his fate.  Connor was dead, and now, everyone has to deal with the repercussions.





	But We Were Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is my first time writing fanfic, so go easy on me! Hope you guys like it.

# Chapter One

Evan was good at faking sick.  He’d done it countless times, when his anxiety was too much, and Heidi couldn’t afford any refills.  He just told her he felt sick, that he might puke any minute, and was it cold in the room?  Because he was freezing.  So that’s what he did today.  He faked sick.

He really couldn’t bear the thought of showing up at school today, and that really sucked because senior year had been going so _well_.  After the first day, he’d gotten close to Connor.  He had a friend for the first time in… well, in forever, and it just felt so _good_ to go to school and at least know he wasn’t completely alone.

He had someone to sit with at lunch now.  Someone to talk to, _really_ talk to.  Someone who didn’t make fun of him.  He had someone to talk about crushes with.  Someone to stay up until three in the morning with on weekends, eating fruit roll-ups and Cheetos and all sorts of junk food Connor was only allowed to eat if Evan smuggled it into the Murphys’ because Cynthia could kind of accept that her son smoked weed, but the second she saw snacks with saturated fat she lost her mind.

It was nice for Evan to not have his mom on his case all the time about making friends.  God, the look on her face when she first told her he was going to hang out with someone from school.  A smile that wasn’t forced, enthusiasm that completely eradicated the pity and panic and fear for the future in her eyes, at least for a moment.  And when he’d brought Connor over to hang out, she’d just about thrown a party.  Thinking about it, Evan exhaled shortly, almost amused.  She’d offered to order a pizza and insisted that Connor chose the toppings.  She even “splurged,” getting a deep-dish crust. 

He supposed he had his therapist to thank for all this.  It was Dr. Sherman who’d told him to write the letters, and it was the letters that ultimately started his friendship with Connor. 

 _“This is yours, right?” Connor asked, holding the paper out.  “Dear Evan Hansen.  That’s your name, right?”_

_“Yeah.  Um, that’s me,” Evan answered, snatching the letter away and stuffing it in his bag.  God, he hoped Connor hadn’t read it.  That would be unbearably embarrassing to explain.  “Thanks.”_

_Connor nodded and turned on his heels, the soles of his combat boots squeaking against the linoleum floors of the computer lab.  Then, he just… stopped.  Standing there._

_After a few seconds, Evan cleared his throat, awkwardly fiddling with the hem of his polo.  “…You good?” he asked, trying not to seem judgmental in his confusion._

_Connor turned back around, sighing.  “Hold on,” he muttered before digging through his bag.  Eventually, he tracked down a pen and a scrap of paper, torn from the bottom of an assignment.  Evan watched with a furrowed brow as he scribbled something down._

_He shoved the paper at Evan before leaving the computer lab, probably not storming out, but his long legs and bad posture making it seem like he was.  Evan felt like having a heart attack right then and there; he’d somehow just pissed off Connor Murphy.  But looking down at the paper, he went from terrified to... Well, he didn’t know how he felt._

_A phone number.  And below it, in scribbly cursive handwriting: Maybe we should talk sometime._

Evan would never admit it—it was sappy and weird and maybe even creepy—but he still had that little piece of paper.  It was sitting somewhere in the junk drawer of his desk, a memento, a reminder, evidence that he had a friend. 

“Knock knock,” Heidi said softly as she let herself into Evan’s room.  “You’re still in bed?”

“I feel like I’m going to puke,” Evan said.  Too monotone.  Shit.  He coughed a couple times to up his act, and then shivered.

Heidi sighed, sitting on the edge of Evan’s bed.  She looked bad, to put it frankly.  The bags under her eyes were prominent as if she’d just gotten back from a graveyard shift, despite having been home all night, and she was wearing unwashed scrubs.  “Evan…”  She frowned, deciding to start her sentence differently, or say something else entirely.  “Okay.  I’ll call the school and tell them you’re not feeling well.”  She waited a beat for her son to respond, but he didn’t.  “Do you want me to stay home with you?”

Evan shook his head.  That would be worse; he could barely stand how she’d been looking at him in the last minute.  “No, go to work.  It’s okay.”  He tried a smile, but the corners of his mouth turned up awkwardly and unnaturally.

Heidi bit her bottom lip.  “…Alright, sweetie.  Remember, we have those TV dinners in the freezer if you’re hungry." 

“I’m not,” Evan replied shortly.

“But when you are.”  Heidi sounded exasperated.  Evan wanted to be nicer to her, or to at least be reassuring.  But he couldn’t today. 

“Just go to work.” 

“ _Evan_ —” She stopped herself before she could get mad at him.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry—” Her voice cracked.  She took a deep breath to compose herself.  “I can’t believe it, either.  I’m so sorry he’s gone.”

Evan clenched his jaw.  Tears were welling in his eyes, and he didn’t want to cry in front of her.  Not right before she had to leave.  “ _Just go to work_ ,” he repeated.

Heidi smoothed his hair back, shaking her head.  “Nope.  You know what?  I decided I’m not going today, and you don’t get to fight me on that because I’m your mother.”  She tried on a smile.  “What do you want for breakfast?  I’ll make anything.” 

Evan felt like someone had a grip on his lungs and was crushing them, squeezing the air out and crinkling them smaller and smaller until they turned to dust.  He really _did_ feel like he was gonna puke now, and god damnit, he couldn’t stop the tears from falling down his face.  “Chocolate chip pancakes aren’t gonna bring Connor back,” he snapped. 

He probably looked pathetic.  His voice was shaky, and his bottom lip quivered, and his eyes were puffy, and the tears were _streaming_ now, uncontrollable.  He wished he could go back to when he first found out.  He’d been numb yesterday.  That was easier.  Now, he was just making a scene, which was ridiculous and _selfish,_ so selfish.  This wasn’t about him.  Why was he making it about him? 

Before he registered what was happening, Heidi pulled him into a hug, holding him close to her.  Evan tried to use this moment to calm down, but he just couldn’t handle it when he realized that his mother’s shoulders were shaking just like his own.  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling, although she was clearly trying to hide it.

It hit Evan that Heidi was probably feeling pretty similar to him.  Now he felt even worse about snapping at her.  There he went again, making this all about himself.  “Mom?” He squeezed her a little tighter for a second.

Heidi didn’t say anything coherent, just blubbered on.  Evan caught a few words—miss him, don’t know what I would do, son, my baby—but it was mostly a string of syllables covered by sobs.  She pulled herself together, finally, and Evan couldn’t be gladder.  Hearing his mother so distraught only worsened his mood.  She sighed, a shuddering inhale, and whispered, “I should call Cynthia.”

Evan gulped, the feeling in his stomach that he might puke coming right back.  “You should,” he agreed quietly.  He didn’t think about how she’d been when she delivered the news—he couldn’t. 

As much as he didn’t want to, he got out of bed, walking with his mom to the kitchen.  Heidi wordlessly started to make banana chocolate chip muffins, with sugar sprinkled on top just how Evan liked them.

Evan sat at the table, checking his phone.  He had a Snapchat from Jared.  Finally, some normalcy.

It was a poorly-lit selfie with a caption written in the world’s most obnoxious shade of green: **Where the fuck are you?  You’re late to pre-calc.**

Evan snorted.  Jared could be such a dumbass sometimes. 

Wait, no.  Jared didn’t know yet.  As far as Evan knew, he, his mom, and the Murphys were the only people who’d been told.

A follow-up Snap confirmed his suspicions.  **Don’t tell me you’re off making out with your boyfriend.**

“Connor is Evan’s boyfriend” jokes had stopped being funny as soon as the first one had been told, but they were a million times worse now.  Evan turned his phone off and stared straight ahead, trying to ignore that Cynthia was crying so hard on the phone with Heidi that he could hear her, despite the conversation not being on speakerphone.

**Author's Note:**

> Future chapters will kind of be from the point of view from some other characters (Heidi, Zoe, Cynthia, Larry, etc.) so we'll really get some good grieving in there and get an idea of how everyone's feeling. Leave a (nice) comment?


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